


catch & release

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Jean Ralphio Hawke, Kidnapping, The Fade, no really he is the wooooorst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra dreams of Hawke. Varric hopes to forget. Hawke has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. catch

Cassandra _dreams_ of Hawke.

A frustrated face in the haze. The sarcasm that dripped off every sentence that was not buoyantly cheerful. The slow lope that somehow kept up with everyone else.

Her heart shakes, the meaning of the dreams unclear. He had been a hero... but not a loved one. And though his passing was regretted by many, there were those who had been strangely relieved. Why would she dwell on him? Why would her thoughts linger?

She had gone to Varric first, reluctant and short in the wake of the revelations that had led to Hawke's rediscovery. He had not been welcoming.

“Go away, Seeker.”

“I wanted to ask -”

“Everyone wants to ask something. What makes _you_ so special?”

And it stings. They had reached a comfortable place, and now everything was out of step. She wonders if it would ever be the same again.

“Was Hawke your... friend?”

He glares up at her, fingers spinning the quill slightly as he considers his words. “Hawke got shit done,” he says finally. “Didn't have to _like_ the guy to understand that.”

“In your book, you speak well of him -”

“Yeah, well, I couldn't very well go around telling everyone what a deadbeat he was when he actually managed to save the city once or twice, could I? Hawke was a lot more like his uncle than he'd ever care to admit. But if it weren't for him, we'd be down an Inquisitor.” He looks back to his letter. “Are we done?”

She hesitates, hands wringing. She wants to say something, anything to bridge the gap between them – but pride stops her.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she says eventually.

Varric snorts. “Coming from _you_ , that's -”

“Nevermind.” Turning on her heel, she goes in search of distraction.

*

The dreams keep happening.

His hand reaching out, grasping for her. She feels compelled to run, but remains. He never quite reaches her.

She rubs at her eyes with a slight noise of frustration. The spymaster tilts her head sympathetically.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“I fear Adamant took more out of me than I had previously realised,” she admits, can safely admit in the lofty heights of the Rookery.

Leliana frowns, one hand reaching out for her friend's arm. “Being trapped in the Fade is not a pleasant experience.”

“On that, we can certainly agree. I only hope the nightmares pass.”

“All things do, Cassandra.”

Cassandra smiles thinly. “Mm.”

The bard chuckles. “Even Varric's anger will fade in time,” she adds, confirming her friend's thoughts.

“He is right to be angry. I threatened to _kill_ him.”

“In your defence, that is practically affectionate for you.”

A sharp laugh escapes her. “Yes, perhaps. But this is... different.”

“Because Hawke is dead.”

The image of him reaching out strikes her, unbidden. “Yes.”

“That is not your fault. I sincerely doubt that Varric blames you.”

Fingers reaching closer and closer. “I – I am unsure I can agree.” The hand is still there, even when she opens her eyes. “Hawke -”

Leliana looks up from her letters. “Cassandra?”

The Seeker drops to the floor, armour clattering violently on the wood.

*

Eyes snapping open, she whirls around to find the source of her sudden discomfort. Hawke is crouched, a defensive stance as he leans on his staff. He is bloodied but otherwise apparently unharmed.

“Hawke?”

The man smiles broadly, though there is little humour in it. “Seeker Pentaghast. You look lovely as ever.”

“You... pulled me here?”

He waggles his fingers. “A little elf owed me a favour, taught me a few sweet tricks. Feynriel really came into his own, you know? I love helping out those in need.” The last statement is dripping with a wry sweetness.

“Feynriel, the elven apostate.” She remembers the story. “He taught you?”

“I sought him out when I was on the run.”

“So you were in Tevinter the whole time.”

“Mm, not the whole time. The social scene's a little heavy up there. Crashed with some friends and came back when my man Varric called. Look where that got me,” he laughs. She feels his anger, even from here.

“What happened? The Inquisitor said -”

“Oh, I gave it a good show. My man always said you should make it look good, you know? But it wasn’t much of a choice.” He stands. “I’m used to being thrown to the wolves.”

Cassandra hauls herself up, eyes fixed on the man she had come to know as the Champion. The title was… something she was coming to realise was another bitter truth about the man she had heard so many stories about. He wore it like a badly healing wound, an itch that could not be sated, even when the skin was scratched raw.

“Why am I here?” she asks.

The smile returns as he twirls his staff in his hands. “Leverage,” he says. “The Inquisition needs you, so they’ll come running. And when they do, I can get out of here.”

“You do not need to do this. The Inquisitor can open rifts at will, I am sure that -”

Hawke tilts his head, rolling his eyes. "Yeeeeah, that's the thing. He can’t - he has no idea what he’s doing. And waiting for him to figure it out is too much like real work. But he’s sweet on you, and his desire to save you will flare up his powers.” The smile is strangely menacing, and she takes a step back. “Cassandra, baby, you gotta understand - I didn't WANT to do this, but you don't get to leave 'til I do."

*

Word spreads quickly in Skyhold, but when Varric hears that the Seeker has fallen he makes sure he is one of the first on the scene - not out of a sense of malice, as some might assume, but out of real concern. The Seeker, after all, was the heart of the Inquisition, and if she could be felled…

She lies on the table in Solas’ rotunda, still yet seemingly unwounded.

“What happened?” Varric is by her side in moments, one hand gentle on her brow.

“Something holds her there,” murmurs Solas, brow troubled.

“But she's alive?”

“Very much so.” For a moment, he regards Varric. “I am surprised that you are so interested.”

“Yeah, well. Nobody else pulls my pigtails quite like her,” he mutters.

“Is she alright?” The Inquisitor barrels into the room, eyes wide with concern. “Is she alive?”

Solas holds up his hands. “For the fifth time, yes - the Seeker is alive and her body is whole. Her spirit… that is a question I cannot yet answer.”

“Who would do this? Who could do this?”

Varric can feel the trickle of realisation down his neck, even before Leliana says it.

“Hawke.”

The spymaster nods. “She spoke his name, just before.”

“Shit.”

“What? The Champion?” Teddy Cadash is too young for the furrows in his brow, and for a moment Varric feels a pang of guilt. He brought this upon them all, after all.

“Hawke’s always been a survivor. Maybe this was his way of telling us he’s still alive.” Leliana taps a finger lightly against her lips. “Varric, perhaps we should discuss this further…”

*

Time passes strangely in the Fade, but it does not seem long before a figure approaches them. Cassandra smiles slightly at the familiar sight.

“Solas.”

Hawke twists his head around, glaring. “I didn’t meet you, did I?”

Solas regards the man with little interest before turning back to the Seeker. “Are you well, Cassandra?”

She nods, glancing around at the landscape. “As well as can be expected, though I am stuck here for the moment.”

“So I see. I would be very interested to meet the one who taught Hawke such a... forgotten technique.” There is a look in his eyes, and for the first time since the explosion she feels that Solas might actually be more than he says. The moment passes. “In any case, the Inquisitor is scouting the mountains for an active rift. Opening one by force in Skyhold was deemed too dangerous.”

Cassandra smiles thinly. “Naturally.”

“When a suitable location has been found, I will return to direct you. You will be free,” he adds, turning his head to Hawke who fist-pumps in the air, “and you will allow Cassandra to awaken or we will kill you the instant your feet touch the ground. That threat is from a considerable number of the Inquisitor's advisory party.”

He snaps off a mock salute, before grinning. “You guys are a real fun bunch. It's a miracle Varric's still hanging around.”

“Ah, speaking of the dwarf... Seeker, your body is currently at rest in his quarters.”

“What?”

“At his insistence, once we ascertained that Hawke had been the cause of your plight. They are a little more secluded than your own, and he feels somewhat responsible.” Solas manages a smile of his own. “He has threatened anyone who might dare take advantage of your state.”

The Seeker almost laughs at the idea of Varric holding Sera off by force. “Please, pass on my thanks. And...” But what else is there to say? It was only for Hawke's sake that he remained, and once he was back in the physical world the dwarf would follow him back to Kirkwall. “Tell him his Champion will be returned soon enough.”


	2. release

“Hold.”

Teddy stops the party on the edge of the Hinterlands, the shelter of the mountains giving way to an icy wind that whips around them. Varric curls a little closer around the wrapped form of Cassandra Pentaghast, silent and still in his arms.

It has been seven days since their last argument. He misses her sharpness - and that is an uncomfortable realisation in itself.

“Varric?” The Inquisitor offers him a concerned look.

“Just not looking forward to this particular reunion,” he grunts. “Let’s get this over with.”

*

Hawke is a mystery, despite the book. Cassandra spends the uneven passage of time curious.

“Varric followed you.”

“I have an undeniable allure,” he drawls. “The needy flock to me.”

She scoffs. “Varric is not _needy_.”

He fixes her with a look. “You _really_ don’t know Varric, do you?”

She stops, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“Varric needs someone to follow. It was me, and now it’s probably you. You’re just his type, really, the hero he kept wanting me to be.” His voice sours. “Don’t let him write a book about you, Seeker. You’ll never be rid of him.”

“Do not speak of him that way.”

“You pity him, don’t you?” He smirks. “Bet he _loves_ that.”

“I do not!”

“Bet he pokes and prods you just to hear you shout at him.”

“He does not -”

“Doesn’t he?”

She glares at him. “Stop it. Stop doing that. Why must you pick everything apart like that?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but something behind her must catch his eye, for he stops entirely.

“What?” She looks over her shoulder to see a jagged crack in the distance, shimmering.

“That’s my cue,” he grins.

“The rift,” she breathes. “It looks so much more… calm, from this side.”

“For now,” he says, and she realises that the spirits around them are beginning to amass, the familiar forms of demons emerging from the clouds. Drawing her sword, she adopts a defensive stance.

“We will have to fight our way through.”

Hawke vanishes from her side, reappearing next to the rift, waggling his fingers in a wave. She realises too late what he must have planned all along.

“HAWKE!” she screams, the timbre of her anger shaking through her voice.

He vanishes through the rift, the demons swarming around her. A curse escapes through gritted teeth – she could not leave through the rift, as she was not physically here, but she was still at risk of perishing. A dead trapped spirit was still trapped.

“Maker, hear my cry. Let me pass through this trial.”

She closes her eyes as they overwhelm -

*

Varric cannot help but take a step forward when Hawke jumps out of the rift. It was an old reflex, to shadow the man who had been Champion. But behind him, nothing stirs.

“Well,” says Hawke with that insufferable grin, “that was fun.”

“You son of a bitch,” roars the dwarf, lunging at him with a swift right hook. “Let her go! Let her go!”

Hawke snarls, one hand coming up to his face. “Always knew you liked ‘em unattainable, _buddy_.” He spits the endearment, before raising a hand in warning. “I leave, she lives. Anyone stops me, she'll die.”

Around him, Varric can feel the anger of his companions, but nobody stops him as he backs away, suddenly slipping from view in the middle of the open field.

The Inquisitor swears loudly, and Varric turns back to the Seeker’s side.

_Maker, please. Let her pass._

*

\- and then the air loosens, her breath catching, eyes fluttering open.

In front of her eyes, Varric looks terrified.

“Seeker?”

“Varric?”

“Thank _fuck_ ,” he breathes, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I'm sorry, this is all my fault.”

She hesitates for a moment before wrapping her arms around his back, shaking her head slightly. “No. This is all on him. Where is he?”

“Gone.” He pulls back, shrugging. “Nightingale sent agents in pursuit, but -”

“They will not find much. I think he has been using long-forgotten powers for a long time, and he is far cleverer than we have him credit for.”

“Seeker -”

She silences him, thumb over his lips as her hand cradles his cheek. “There is... a better time and place, I think, for this conversation,” she murmurs, “but please understand that I am not upset with you. I -”

“Cassandra! Thank the Stone, you're alright!”

Varric pulls away as the Inquisitor comes to her side, one hand light on hers. She smiles weakly, promising him that she was fine, no, nothing terrible happened, it was _fine_ …

His chest aches as he slips away, retreating to the makeshift camp to help pack up the stretcher. He had known, of course, of Teddy's interest in Cassandra - everyone knew, and despite her pointed glares everyone suspected she harboured feelings for him too. It was quite the love story, Varric had to agree. A noble lady and a Carta thug who had been thrust into the fore. A human and a dwarf.

And yet… he does not want to even think it, but the events of the past few days had made it abundantly clear. He wished it were another dwarf held so highly in the Seeker’s esteem. He wished it were _him_.

*

Cassandra feels strange, over the next few days - as if sleeping would lead to further problems. Each morning she wakes earlier than usual, and each evening she lingers longer and longer before succumbing to sleep.

And despite it, she finds her thoughts strangely clear on many things - including one particular thing that leads her to the door of one particular dwarf.

She knocks lightly at his door.

“Enter!”

“Varric.”

He is surprised to see her, she can tell that much. “Seeker?”

“If I am interrupting -”

“No, no, just... I thought you'd be with Ruffles and Nightingale. They were making overtures about taking you for some rest and relaxation.”

She nods. “We depart for the capital in the morning.”

“Ah. Gotcha. So what can I do for you? A little light reading for the journey?”

“I thought perhaps we could perhaps continue where we left off, the other day.” She leans against the side of his desk, perching carefully on the edge. “I know we have not exactly been on... friendly terms, as of late -”

“Oh, come on, Seeker,” he laughs, “what's past is past. Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but out of my friends you're actually the least likely to go crazy and do something ridiculous. Which... says a lot more about me than it does you, actually.”

“Still, I... I am sorry. For everything. You were protecting your friend -”

“Some _friend_.”

“- and I was wrong to get aggressive.” She folds her hands over one another. “I would like us to start over.”

He narrows his eyes, watching her. “What did he say?”

“What?”

“He _said_ something, didn't he? He said something about me and now you're making nice. Come on, just let it out and we can move past this and go back to being... whatever level of frosty you want to be with me.”

“Varric -”

“No,” he stops her, getting up from his chair. “See, I _know_ you. I _know_ you still think you were in the right and the Seeker _I_ know wouldn't just come in here with her tail between her legs. So tell me what he said or -”

Hands reach out, cupping his face as she bends to meet his lips with her own, silencing his threats. He freezes in surprise, and she almost regrets the move, but then his mouth parts beneath hers and he pulls her against him, arms wrapping around her tightly. A soft moan bubbles from her throat, and she tugs at him as she moves, pushing him back down into his chair and settling into his lap without breaking the kiss.

Finally they break apart, breathing heavily as he rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

“I do not wish to be right if it means we are at odds,” she murmurs, “not anymore.”

His hands settle at her waist, eyes opening to meet hers. “I thought – you and the Inquisitor -”

She chuckles. “Teddy is quite charming, but I think he is a little… green. Besides, all that beard... ugh.” She pulls a face before trailing a finger over his smooth cheeks. “I much prefer this. I prefer you.”

“Seeker, is this what you -”

“If I did not want this, I would not be here.”

He watches her again, eyes careful.

She raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Desire demon?”

She swats his arm. “ _Varric!_ ”

“What? You can’t be too careful!” But he is smiling again, at least. “And it’d probably get me with that. I’ve, ah… I’ve wanted this for a while.”

She runs a hand down his chest, swallowing. “Truly?”

“Yeah.”

“That is good to know.” Her fingers catch on the edge of his shirt. “Varric, I… I am sorry, for my part in our recent disagreements.”

He chuckles. “Our fight.”

“Yes.”

His hands slide around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Apology accepted, sweetheart. Can we make up now?”

She laughs, tugging at his tunic. “Yes -”

But he does not let her speak further, occupying her mouth with far sweeter tasks as they succumb to the pleasures of finally being captured by one another’s presence.


End file.
